One by One
by DreamerAngel17
Summary: If at first you don't succeed, try and try again. He'll find that rude brunette guy with the golden eyes. Modern AU with fifty percent more Romerica.
1. One by One

AN: I really shouldn't be writing another one shot *cough* starting another story *cough* This spawns from a sweet little muse of music and Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. Enjoy their lovechild.

It's Romerica, trust me.

Disclaimer-I do not own Hetalia but if I did, the things I would do...

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><p>The lights flash and he takes a breath.<p>

The lights feel bright and loud against his clammy skin and the bodies around him tumble and groove to their own beats. The lights beam hard and strong against his person and he takes another deep breath to calm himself. The bodies around him jumble and mash together in a deep sea of sweat and lust and he fights to keep his head afloat. The music is loud and blaring, the deep bass undertone matching his pulsating heartbeat.

He pushes his way through the massive blockade of rhythmic forms that seem to be in constant motion and keeping in time with the hypnotic melodies of the current tune floating in the air. He makes it towards his seat from earlier, his self-proclaimed `safe haven', and safely observes the other people around him.

This particular song is `an instant headache' as his boss would put it because the track is laced heavily with bass, a favorite for a crowd like this. He can't see why people would come to places like this, all these heaving and sweaty bodies pressed tightly against each other in this cramped and enclosed space with barely any breathing room.

The closest place to freedom is the bar at the back of the room, which is strategically placed by the entrance. He sweeps his eyes over the crowd and nurses a glass in his hand; he condemns this behavior for the members of his age group, yet here he sits as a contradiction to the law.

He scoffs into the glass. _'My boss would laugh his ass off if he knew.'_

He takes another sip and muses over his predicament, running a hand through short wheat-blonde hair. He wouldn't be here if his siblings hadn't talked him into coming. If he had his way, he would still be in front of his flat screen watching the basketball playoffs and ignoring the inevitable piles of paperwork nestled in his office. He's come to the conclusion that he was blessed with unforgiving siblings who drag their siblings out on cheap attempts at entertainment, persuading him with their quick actions and clever words.

His hand clenches the glass at the thought. _'I'm missing the NBA semi- final playoffs for my brothers; bullshit.'_

He takes another swig from his glass, that drink finishes off his glass so he orders another. The bartender, a slender brunette with naturally tanned skin and a bright glint in his olive green eyes refills the order, smirking as he hands the man his drink.

"You look troubled, _mi amigo_." The words roll off the bartender's silky Spanish accent and catch the man's attention.

"Annoyed describes my mood right now."

The bartender fills another order, some dark liquor, and slides it down the bar to a short man with wildly tame blonde hair and hazy emerald eyes. He sends the drink with a wink and the man colors a lovely red before flipping up his middle finger. He rebounds from rejection and directs his attention back to the original blonde at his bar.

"Penny for your thoughts Alfred?"

The annoyed blonde slips his glasses off his face, they've fogged up due to all the perspiration in the air, and settles his blurry gaze on the bartender. "Don't have siblings Antonio, they're horrible."

Antonio chuckles at the statement. "What have _tus hermanos _done this time?"

The wheat-blonde sighs at the question and pushes his glasses back on his face. He gives the bartender Antonio a once-over with a sweep of clear blue eyes then drops them to his fresh drink. "They kidnapped me against my will."

Antonio amusedly chuckles. "Oh really?"

Alfred gives Antonio a pointed look over fogged lenses. The song has switched to a newer tune, a song that's popular on mainstream radio waves and has been climbing the charts with its clever hook and catchy chorus. Alfred thumps his fingers on the rim of his glass to the pulsating bass that's matching his heartbeat. "Is there any other reason why I would be here?"

_~Look at me now, look at me now, I'm gettin' paper. Look at me now, look at me now, I'm fresher than a muthafucka~ _

The bartender feigns hurt. "So mean to me Alfred, and here I thought that you just wanted to see me."

Alfred rolls his eyes at the mock display of emotion. "Get over yourself Tony, I see you all the time." The blonde retreats to his drink, taking a sip then swirling the brownish-gold liquid in the small glass. Antonio's green eyes survey him for a minute, taking in his demeanor and Alfred can't shake the nervous feeling crawling up his spine.

He's doing it again, letting Antonio get under his skin with that way he always does. Antonio's eyes are still watching him and Alfred distracts his senses with his drink. The air between the two is quiet, filled with by apprehension and slow thumping bass.

"Are you thinking about me?" That smooth Spanish baritone caresses Alfred's ears and the blonde flinches slightly.

"If that's what you want to believe." He sips cautiously at his drink.

Antonio makes a noise to himself and turns his attention to new consumers, a giggly redhead and his tall blonde companion. Alfred watches the bartender work, those tanned hands grabbing bottles, tossing and flipping them in the air with skilled ease.

The bespectacled blonde sits back and watches the performance behind the bar, watching Antonio work his magic with alcohol. His motions are fluid and smooth, fingers not missing a beat. Those green eyes are lit with something Alfred hasn't seen in a long time, something that he can't place his finger on but he knows he's seen it before.

Antonio fills their orders and they leave, the giggly redhead simultaneously chattering to his friend about the show for their drinks and leading him onto the dance floor. Another order distracts Antonio, this time it's from the disgruntled blonde with the sharp emerald eyes at the end of the bar who seems to be drowning his sorrows in heavy rum. Antonio attempts to flirt but the blonde mutters under his breath and flips him off.

Alfred watches in curious interest at the exchange before he focuses back on his own drink. He takes a slow breath and speaks without looking up because he knows Antonio's attention is back on him. "Do you think about me?"

The air around them shifts into something uncomfortable and the blond lowers his vision to his half-empty glass. Those green eyes are watching him closely. "Sometimes. Sometimes I catch my mind wandering before I realize."

Alfred nods slowly and watches the ice in his glass float. "I'm the same way, when my mind's clear of shit and I'm by myself." Antonio makes a low noise in the back of his throat and proceeds to wipe the bar counter down. The air between them clears a little, but the uncomfortable tension still lingers.

"It was good while it lasted."

Olive green clashes with cerulean blue; the two men lock gazes. The air grows heavy and Alfred finds himself drowning in the depths of those green orbs. He can see all the shades of green that make up Antonio's eye color and he tears his eyes away before he loses himself. He sweeps his gaze over the crowd, trying to distract himself.

"You can do better."

Antonio goes back to his work. "If you say so."

The air between them lightens and they accept the conclusion. Alfred's eyes comb the crowd for any tell-tell sign of his brothers inside the large mass of sweaty and grinding bodies. By now another song has graced the airwaves, a slower song with mild bass and a slow tempo. The people on the dance floor have taken heed and begin to pair up for the slow dancing song. The bass isn't as interwoven in this song like the others, but it controls Alfred's heartbeat all the same.

In between the huddled masses of the dancers, Alfred spots a lonely brunette trying to make his way through the crowd. The blonde rises from his seat to go and help the struggling brunette through the throng of dancers when he suddenly remembers Antonio behind the bar. The bartender winks at him and shoos him away with a hand, his intentions set on the emerald-eyed moody blonde at the end of the bar.

Alfred nods and heads toward the crowd, where the brunette was pushing himself through. Alfred reaches for a flailing arm and yanks the other man towards his person harshly. Their bodies roughly collide and they crash to the floor in front of the bar in a tangled heap of limbs. The two untangle themselves and the first thing Alfred sees are two honey-hazel gold eyes glaring down at him.

The track abruptly skips and so does his heart.

The brunette's face is mere inches from his own that their noses are almost touching and Alfred can't help the heat that rises to his face. The brunette cocks an eyebrow, "The fuck was that for?"

Alfred's ears perk at the sound of the other man's voice, a hint of a foreign accent that he can't properly place. "You were struggling, so I came to help you out; it's what I do." The brunette scoffs, rolling his golden-hazel eyes but the blonde pays no mind, offering the man a soft smile.

"My name's Alfred."

"That's good to know." There's that accent again, but it's weaker this time around. It's not as rich as Antonio's but it could be if Alfred could only keep the man talking.

"It is, now what's yours?"

The brunette thinks for a second, and Alfred wonders what other colors make up the hue of his iris. "It's…none of your _damn business_."

Alfred wiggles his fingers on his outstretched arms, his smile falling short. "Not fair. I saved you so at least I should get a name." The brunette scoffs again, rolling those uniquely colored eyes to meet Alfred's bright azure ones.

"This ain't a movie and you didn't save anything, idiot. Now can you get off me?" Alfred wiggles his body beneath the brunette, that smile returning at full force.

"You're on top actually." In any other situation Alfred would have made a comment but this instance feels too delicate and he's not going to display his whole personality with this stranger.

The other man looks down to discover his body draped carelessly over Alfred's, with their legs still entwined together. The brunette huffs and mutters grimly under his breath in a language Alfred recognizes but can't pinpoint accurately. A rough shove and quick thinking, the pair of them stand a foot from each other with sweaty brows and heaving chests.

Alfred takes in the other man's appearance from head to toe, noticing their height difference. The other man's head could easily fit under his chin. The brunette's clothes seemingly fit a scene like this, a dark t-shirt that complements naturally tanned skin with matching dark jeans that elongate his legs and cover his presumably black gym shoes.

Alfred doesn't know how long they stand like this, observing and analyzing one another, but he figures that it won't last forever. The other man looks a little uncomfortable under the blonde's curious gaze as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. In reality, Alfred knows only seconds have gone by but this moment feels like forever.

"So…are you going to give me that name anytime soon? I've already told you mine." He speaks with an easy smile. He figures that the old saying _'If at first you don't succeed, try and try again' _fits this situation best because he should at least know the name of the guy he 'rescued'.

The brunette scowls at him, narrowing those unique golden eyes. "I don't know you and why I'm still talking to you is a mystery in itself. Now get lost, I've got to go find my idiot brother." With that, the other man turns on his heel and stomps off , heading back towards the fray Alfred so kindly 'rescued' him from.

The blonde watches him leave, eyes locked to the back of his head. He blinks out of his thoughts and calls after the retreating form over the loud bass and synthesizers, "So I don't get a thank you?"

A lone middle finger is raised high in the air. "Fuck off!"

Alfred steadily watches the other man vanish into the masses. He contemplates just going back to the bar to finish his drink and just leaving; if his brothers want him, they can call him on his cell.

He sets to put this plan into motion when his foot turns and hits a solid object. He reaches down to pick up the object and examines it in his hands. It's a patent leather wallet, thick and tight but not worn from wear. Without hesitation Alfred pats his pockets to see if his wallet is still where he left it; yep it's still there. He opens the wallet to see who it belongs to when he's greeted by glaring golden eyes on a driver's license. Alfred frantically searches the surrounding crowd for any sign of that rude brunette but he doesn't see him anywhere.

He's vanished as fast as he appeared and he's left Alfred in a questionable predicament with more questions than answers.

Finally the rumbling bass has fallen off of the pace of Alfred's heart and the blonde takes in a shaky breath.


	2. Two by Two

There are two sides to every story, _non_?

Disclaimer-Hetalia I do not own.

AN: I've got a weird way of writing side pairings that interest me. Lemon yogurt is the shit.

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><p>The lights flash and he inhales deeply.<p>

The lights feel bright and heated against his clammy skin and the bodies around him tumble and groove to their own beats. The lights beam hard and strong against his person and he takes another deep breath to calm himself. The bodies around him jumble and mash together in a deep sea of sweat and lust and he fights to keep them away from his person.

He fights his way through the massive blockade of rhythmic forms that seem to be in constant motion and keeping in time with the hypnotic melodies of the current tune floating in the air.

He hates this song and music like this in general because the tracks are always laced heavily with base that pound his eardrums and wreak havoc on his brain. He doesn't see the point as to why people come to places like this, all these heaving and sweaty bodies pressed tightly against each other in this cramped and enclosed space with barely any breathing room. How people can stand to be in places like this, he will never understand.

The closest place to freedom is the little booth on the opposite side of the room, segregated from all the other activity in the room. He shoves away a few rogue bodies occupying his sanctuary that are currently attached by the lips and settles in his seat.

He scoffs to himself, almost rolling his eyes. _'Why the fuck am I here?'_

He glances towards the untouched drink on his left and scowls at it. He told his _idiota_ of a brother that he didn't want to be here, but did the fool listen to him? No, he didn't. Nowadays it seems as if no one listens to him because they're too busy telling him what's good for him; _as if they know_. If he had his way, he'd be at home, watching that cooking show he'd recorded on the DVR but hasn't gotten around to watching it yet, with a glass of fine wine in one hand and a pen in the other. He could be at home, isolating himself from the rest of society and getting some good recipes but his stupid brother would have none of that.

He flicks his hand at the drink, spilling the contents onto the plush of the booth seat. _'That bastard's always dragging me somewhere I don't want to go. I'll punch him the next time I see him.'_

He runs a hand thru his silky chocolate colored hair and sweeps his eyes over the crowd, hoping to catch a small sight of his brother. Instead he catches the eye of an annoying being that he really doesn't want to see. A tall man with dangerously pale skin watches him closely from outside a group of dancers, like a hawk surveying prey. He whispers something to one of the other dancers, a brunette girl with sparkling green eyes, then makes a beeline towards the single booth in the back of the room.

The man in the booth rolls his gold-yellow eyes and looks away, a scowl covering his features. "The fuck do you want Gilbert?"

Gilbert observes the other man under half-lidded red eyes and greets him in rough German-accented English. "You're still a prick Lovi." He runs a hand through spiky powder white hair, half heartedly.

"You're still wearing those damn contacts and it's _Lovino_, you jerk. Why are you over here talking to me? I don't like you."

Gilbert finger combs his stark locks with ease. "You like my presence."

"I don't like your _existence_."

Gilbert's face drops for a second but he catches himself. "Haha, tell me how you really feel _Lovi_."

Lovino whips his head around to the uninvited guest sitting next to him. Gilbert's lean frame is leaning back against the plush fabric of the booth. His ruby red eyes flicker over the brunette's scowling form and he throws an arm back against the back wall of the booth, across the other man's shoulders.

Lovino shrugs the other's hand off his person. "Why aren't you bothering your stupid brother?" Gilbert sips at the other unattended drink within his reach.

"He's dancing with your brother; and don't call my west 'stupid'." Lovino scoffs at the reprimand.

"West? What the fuck kind of nickname is that?" He cringes as Gilbert chugs the rest of the drink that he didn't pay for.

"An awesome nickname, it's like Lovi but fifty percent more _awesome_."

"What I meant, why do you call him that?" Gilbert directs his attention away from Lovino and onto the dance floor.

The brunette gives the pale man next to him a pointed look that goes undetected. The song has switched to a newer tune, a song that's popular on mainstream radio waves and has been climbing the charts with its clever hook and catchy chorus. Lovino finds himself tapping lithe fingers on the table along to the rhythm of the beat. "Are you going to answer my question, you bastard?"

_~Look at me now, look at me now, I'm gettin' paper. Look at me now, look at me now, I'm fresher than a muthafucka~ _

Gilbert snaps out of his thoughts and shakes his head. "Flattery gets you so far, my dear Lovi."

Lovino punches the paler man in the bicep. "Sarcasm gets you nowhere." The white haired man retreats to his drink, swirling the small remainder around the bottom of the glass slowly. Lovino's eyes watch the other man's motions for a moment, taking in the sight and he can't help the thoughts lurking at the back of his mind.

Damn him for being here, damn his brother for dragging him out of the house and damn his stupid emotions getting all tangled and confused and shit. This frustrating idiot sitting next to him is doing that shit he always does, trying to guilt trip Lovino with his silences and actions. The air between the two is quiet, filled with contemplation and slow thumping bass.

"The name comes from my father." The German tone comes out softer than anticipated and the brunette jumps at the intrusion.

"What?"

Those red eyes glide over to him again. "The name West. I call _mein bruder _that because he acts like our father _und _our father is from West Germany. My personality is kind of like our mama's _und_ since she's from East Germany, he calls me East."

"Illogical, if you ask me." Lovino listens as the man next to him talks. Gilbert's accent is growing thicker the way it always does when he speaks on a topic sensitive to him. Lovino gives the man next to him a once-over with curious golden eyes, taking in his body language. Gilbert makes an irritated noise at the scrutiny and adjusts his position. Those red eyes are reflecting an emotion that Lovino can't readily identify and it bothers the brunette.

'_What he's thinking shouldn't bother me, but it does.'_

The pair sit in silence, mulling in their own minds, when two extra bodies disturb their senses. Lovino looks up to meet a brunette with pair of eyes that match his own, brimming with buzzed happiness. Standing next to him is a tall blue-eyed blonde man with broad shoulders and a light blush painted across his face. Gilbert drops his empty glass onto the table and leers at the blushing blonde across from him.

"Looks like my Ludwig's been busy! Don't tell me little Feli's got you all hot and bothered already."

Ludwig's blush grows deeper. "_Bruder!_ Don't say things like that! You're insinuating that we did more than retrieve more drinks from the bar." Ludwig glances at his brother and Gilbert wiggles his eyebrows.

"That's _exactly _what I'm insinuating."

The redhead standing next to Ludwig abandons the blonde and attaches himself to Lovino's arm. The brunette tries to pry the other man off but his efforts prove futile. "Lovi, Lovi, Lovi! You should've seen what we just saw! Antonio is _amazing! _He did all sorts of things with the bottles and he didn't spill anything!"

Lovino pries the other male off his arm successfully. "Feliciano, sit up and act like you've got some sense. You've seen Antonio do tricks with drinks all the time, don't act brand new."

Feliciano whimpers and blinks his golden eyes at Lovino sadly. "You don't have to be so mean to me brother." Gilbert nods along with Feliciano's statement.

"He's right Lovi, stop being such a prick, I mean look at that face," he motions at Feliciano's pout and watery eyes, "how can you be so cruel to that?"

Lovino growls low to himself, smacking Gilbert in the back of his head. "First of all, my brother's not a 'that' so don't call him such. Second, he's seen Antonio's tricks with alcohol a thousand fucking times, so there's nothing to be excited about. Third _you_," he points rudely at Ludwig, "don't agree with Gilbert."

Ludwig chokes on his drink at the finger pointed in his face. He nods while coughing profusely and banging on his chest to free his windpipe. Feliciano screams and rushes over to Ludwig, flailing wildly and wailing his name. Gilbert glares at the chocolate haired brunette with slit red eyes.

"West can agree with me all he wants, _Lovi."_

"Ludwig, please don't die! Brother didn't mean it!"

Lovino massages his temples and counts slowly under his breath. "_Uno, due, tre…" _He rises slowly from the booth and climbs over Gilbert to escape.

"I'm going to the bar."

By now another song has graced the airwaves, a slower song with mild bass and a slow tempo. The people on the dance floor have taken heed and begin to pair up for the slow dancing song. The bass isn't as interwoven in this song like the others, but Lovino still feels tempted to tap along to the deeper rhythm.

He forces his way through the huddled masses of the dancers, frowning at how close and how slow they're dancing. He slips pass a few couples who are getting too close for his liking and before he knows it, the bar is in his sights. He quickens his pace, faster he can get there, the faster he can leave. His journey is interrupted however, when he gets caught in between two overweight couples. He panics and flails his arms helplessly.

Suddenly a foreign hand reaches for his flailing arm and yanks the other man towards his person harshly. Their bodies roughly collide and they crash to the floor in front of the bar in a tangled heap of limbs. The two untangle themselves and the first thing Lovino sees are two clear blue eyes staring up at him.

The track abruptly skips and so does his heart.

The blonde's face is mere inches from his own that their noses are almost touching and Lovino feels his embarrassment burning his ears. The brunette cocks an eyebrow, "The fuck was that for?"

Lovino watches as the blonde's face perks up at his voice, but he ignores it. "You were struggling, so I came to help you out; it's what I do." The brunette scoffs, rolling his golden-hazel eyes but the blonde pays no mind, offering him a soft smile.

"My name's Alfred."

"That's good to know."

"It is, now what's yours?"

Lovino thinks for a second, cocking his head to the side because he can feel the blonde staring at his eyes. They always stare at his eyes. "It's…none of your _damn business_."

The blonde wiggles his fingers on his outstretched arms, his smile falling short. "Not fair. I saved you so at least I should get a name." Lovino scoffs again, rolling his uniquely colored eyes at the blonde's attempts for his name.

"This ain't a movie and you didn't save anything, idiot. Now can you get off me?" The blonde wiggles his body beneath the brunette, that smile returning at full force.

"You're on top actually."

Lovino looks down to discover his body draped carelessly over the other man's, with their legs still entwined together. The brunette huffs and mutters grimly under his breath in a language the bespectacled blonde seems to recognize but can't pinpoint accurately. A rough shove and quick thinking, the pair of them stand a foot from each other with sweaty brows and heaving chests.

Lovino takes in the other man's appearance from head to toe, noticing their height difference. His head could easily fit under the other man's chin. _Cazzo, _why is he so fucking tall? The blonde's clothes look wrinkled and causally thrown on, a plain pair of blue jeans that fit loosely around his midsection with a white t-shirt that displayed a musical band and shows off his muscled arms.

Lovino doesn't know how long they stand like this, observing and analyzing one another, but he figures that it should end soon. The scrutiny of other man is a little uncomfortable and the blonde's curious gaze is unrelenting. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other. In reality, Lovino knows only seconds have gone by but this moment feels like forever.

"So…are you going to give me that name anytime soon? I've already told you mine." Lovino sighs low to himself at Alfred's attempt. He just won't give up until he has his name. A valiant effort, the brunette admits, but foolish.

The brunette scowls at him, narrowing those unique golden eyes. "I don't know you and why I'm still talking to you is a mystery in itself. Now get lost, I've got to go find my idiot brother." With that, Lovino turns on his heel and stomps off , heading back towards the fray the Alfred so kindly 'rescued' him from. He doesn't need to find his brother but he doesn't want to be around this new idiot more than he needs to.

As he leaves, that same voice calls to him over the loud bass and synthesizers, "So I don't get a thank you?"

A lone middle finger is raised high in the air. "Fuck off!"

Lovino disappears quickly into the crowd, to get away from that airhead. He doesn't know that blonde and he doesn't _want_ to get to know that bastard Alfred. For all he knows, the man could be an axe murderer or a con artist after his inheritance like all the others.

Lovino decides that it's better to cut his losses right now.

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><p>AN: More people will appear soon enough.<p> 


	3. Three by Three

AN: This chapter really didn't want to be written so it might be a little bit of a fail _BUT_ I've got myself on an update schedule, so that should cancel out the fail. I might change the genre of this story from drama to humor because the characters that are coming in are going to change the feel of the story. On a side note, Australia is a jerk and Alfred's stripping scene is as sexy as you deem it ;)

7/5/11- Happy (belated) Independence Day (birthday) America!

Disclaimer-Hetalia is not mine.

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><p>The truck is quiet, too quiet for Alfred's liking. The atmosphere of the late night car ride home is thick and rich with discomfort, more so on Alfred's because he's the least intoxicated of the three of them. He wouldn't say his brothers are lightweights but they aren't exactly known for holding their liquor.<p>

Alfred glances over to his older brother in the front passenger seat. His glazed eyes are glued to the outside world, to all the motion of the fast paced scenery around him. The stoplight above turns a vibrant green and he takes off. He stays at a slow pace because he's too lazy to speed, plus at this time of night police officers _love _to enforce the law.

He turns off the main road onto a smaller residential side street that's only one way. He doesn't see why the street is a one way but he won't dwell on it. Alfred glances down at the wallet sitting under the gear shift stick but directs his attention back to the road. He can't let that guy and his looks pollute his thoughts just yet.

Alfred slows the truck for a turn into the driveway of the five bedroom house he shares with his brothers. He pulls up to the garage and shuts off the engine. The trio exit the vehicle in silence, each in his own mindset.

His brother Jack unlocks the back door and everyone files in quietly. The house is covered in a veil of darkness, everything still left the way it was before they left. Alfred shuffles into the living room form the kitchen to drop off his car keys on the fireplace mantle. He takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, a headache is trying to form.

"Since no one's moving to turn the TV on, I guess we're all going to bed." Alfred's other brother, Matthew, speaks. The other two brothers share a look and shrug, heading towards the staircase. The guys make it to the hallway that holds their rooms and head their separate ways in a unison silence.

"Night losers." Jack starts, waving half-heartedly to his brothers.

"Goodnight guys." Matthew replies, heading straight into his room.

"Night bros." Alfred mumbles lazily, shuffling into his room. He closes the door behind him with a soft _`click'_. He moves towards the middle of his room, removing clothing in the process. He would get online and see who's still up doing what but he's just too tired at the moment and all he wants to do is lie down and sleep.

He kicks off his black and white high-top Chuck Taylors, nudging them over to the half-open closet. Next is the shirt, he strips that off and breathes a sigh of relief as the cool air of a breeze blows in and tickles the light sheen of sweat that glosses his nicely toned chest area.

Balling up his shirt into the shape of a ball, Alfred shoots the clothing article into his overflowing dirty clothes basket, making the shot. The pants follow the shirt after Alfred removes the wallet from his pocket and throws it on his bed. All clothes off, the blonde yawns while stretching his arms over his head, muscles rippling and joints popping.

He deposits himself on his bed in nothing but crimson boxers and white socks. The wallet is lying next to him and he picks it up. The leather is soft and smooth, not really cracked from prolonged use, but still looks a little worn. Alfred flips the wallet between his gentle fingers, those blue eyes working to take in the sight of the object.

He wonders if the other man has realized yet that he's lost something so important. The blonde opens the wallet to explore even further than the glaring driver's license but stops himself. Instead the blonde removes his glasses and places them and the wallet on the nightstand by the bed.

He drifts off to sleep with glaring golden eyes and silky foreign accents.

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><p>"RISE AND SHINE LADIES!"<p>

Alfred jumps at the sudden voice intruding his dream. He frowns and rolls over, it's too damn early for this. A pair of bare fists bang on his bedroom door until the person on the other side gives up and barges in. "Alfie~, time to get up!"

The blonde buries himself deeper under his blanket. The other person in the room huffs. "You hear me Alfalfa, get your ass out of that bed."

"Make me." Alfred mutters darkly into his pillow.

The intruder huffs once more and stomps around but Alfred can't figure out the location. The heavy footfalls grow closer and the blonde realizes that the other person is closing in on his bed. The blonde grips his blanket tightly and secures it around his person but his attempts are futile. A pair of hands snake their way under the blanket and grasp onto his undefended ankles. One rough tug and Alfred is sprawled on his bedroom floor, glaring up at this newcomer.

The blurry outline of his annoying older brother Jack towers over the floored blonde, with the blanket from his little brother's bed draped over one broad shoulder like a trophy. He runs a hand through tousled coffee colored locks and smirks down at Alfred on the floor.

"Looks like my baby doesn't like the cold."

"That's what the blanket is for." Alfred sighs, it's seriously too early for this.

Jack smiles devilishly, "You mean the one draped over my shoulder, mate?"

"_Duh_."

"Get up and I'll consider giving it back."

Facing an ultimatum, Alfred decides on the lesser of two evils. He pushes himself up on his feet to wake up and to get Jack off his back. His older brother means no harm, he's just being a damn jerk like he always is. If Alfred had stayed in bed a little longer, Jack would no doubt pull out the _big guns _on him.

It's too damn early for the _big guns_.

After a nice shower and a good brushing of the teeth, Alfred joins his two brothers in the kitchen, Jack is sitting at the tiled island in the middle of the room, messing around with something on his cell phone. His other brother, Matthew, is slaving over something on the stove that seemingly requires his full attention.

"Nice boxers." Jack notes, watching his brother walk in. Not really wanting to deal with Jack right now, Alfred ignores the comment and strolls over to Matthew at the stove.

"Morning Mattie!" He greets, ruffling Matthew's golden hair. The cooking blonde blinks out of his concentration and glares over his glasses at Alfred with a pair clear blue eyes. "Must you do this every morning?"

Alfred blinks his own blue eyes. "I don't know what you mean." Matthew sighs and watches as his brother heads to the refrigerator. He frowns at the skillet on the stove.

"Play coy all you want, I like my hair the way it is."

Alfred smirks into his glass of orange juice. "Haha okay, but I wasn't talking about your hair."

Matthew takes some bacon out of the skillet and sets it on a plate with paper towel over it to drain the grease. "Liar, you're always talking about my hair."

"It's true, you do." Jack interjects.

"Shut up Jack." The other two males respond in unison without missing a beat and Jack shudders.

"Ugh, I hate it when you guys do that twin thing." Alfred looks up from pouring his second glass of orange juice, blue eyes dull.

"We're twins Jack, what do you expect?"

The older brother shrugs nonchalantly. "Two halves of a whole."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Neither do your boxers."

"Pause the royal rumble, we've got breakfast to eat." Matthew interrupts. He motions to their plates, already filled with breakfast food and fruit. Jack and Alfred collect their plates and seat themselves at the island, with Jack in between his younger twin siblings. They eat in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of metal scrapping aged china filling the air.

"It's 10:25," Matthew speaks, "time to call Mom and Dad."

"I don't see the need for this we're grown, dammit." Alfred gripes, stabbing a sausage with more force than necessary.

Jack pats his back sympathetically, half for Alfred and half for the sausage. "I feel you bro but they pay for the roof we've got over our heads and our college education so we can't complain." Alfred huffs in annoyance but nods and goes back to his food. Jack pulls out his cell phone and speed dials a number. The phone rings twice before someone answers.

_"Good morning. You have called the United States Department of Intelligence and Security Command, Office of Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell F. Jones. What is the reason for your call?"_

"Hello. This is his son Jack Jones and he told me to call him around this time."

_"Jack? Yes, he has been expecting your call. One moment please."_

"Might as well call Mom while we wait." Jack switches over on a different phone line and dials another number. "Yes, is Dr. Jones available? Tell her that her son Jack is calling for her." He sets the phone down on the counter and puts it on speaker phone.

_"Jack? I'm shocked that you called me on time."_

Jack rolls his eyes. "Hello to you too mother."

"Hey mom." Matt adds.

"Yo mom!" Alfred yells, rising to replenish his orange juice, with pulp this time. "Fill me up too Al." Matt speaks, holding up his glass. He fills Jack's glass as well, while he's at it. The cheesy hold music that they're accustomed to ends as soon as Alfred sits back down.

Lacy giggles into the speaker. _"Well, I've missed you boys too~."_

_"Lieutenant Colonel Jones speaking."_

_"Hi honey."_

"Yo pops!"

"Hey dad."

"Father."

The male on the line emits a hearty chuckle. _"Looks like the gang's all here. How's my family doing?"_

"We're just fine dad, aside from the fact that you and mom might lose a son." Alfred states, glaring at Jack. His older brother glares back and gives him the middle finger.

_"What are you talking about Alfred? Are you boys behaving like we told you?" _Their mother asks, her question sounding more scolding than concerned. The boys shrug at the phone, like their parents can see their actions.

"We're just fine, Alfred's just being childish."

"And Jack's being too ignorant for his own good." The two brothers lock eyes and the atmosphere fills with tension.

_"I don't like the sound of that. Do I need to come home?"_

"Jack and Alfred aren't seeing eye to eye at the moment, dear parents. I've got them under control though, so they shouldn't do anything too stupid." Matthew states, breaking up the stare down between his two brothers. The tension dissolves and the two brothers turn their attention elsewhere.

_"See Lacy, Matthew's got everything under control. There's nothing to worry about, the boys are fine. They are grown, you know."_

Lacy huffs into the speaker. _"Shut up Mitchell, I know how old they are. I just don't want them killing each other while we're not there. And you're supposed to be on my side you idiot."_

Mitchell sighs to himself. _"I'm always on your side Lacy, and you know this."_

_"Yeah, right."_

The boys shift in their seats awkwardly. The playful banter in the air has dissipated and morphed into something uncomfortable. No one is speaking, except for the parents, who are talking to other people in their backgrounds. The lull in conversation is getting heavy and Alfred decides to break it.

"So, I met someone when we went out last night."

That one sentence seemed to grab everyone's attention. The parents cease their other conversations and the other two brothers perk up, interested. "Oh really? Someone besides Antonio put up with you last night?" Jack questions, the tone he uses is laced with sarcasm and that earns a punch from Matthew.

_"Leave your brother alone Jack."_ Lacy scolds lightly. _"Tell us more Alfred."_

Alfred shifts in his seat a little. It might be a little unnerving to tell his parents about last night at the bar but he needs some advice on what to do about the wallet. His brothers might not give him exactly what he's looking for so his parents are the next best thing.

"I didn't really talk to the guy, I just saved him from getting squashed to death in the crowd."

Mitchell clears his throat pointedly._"That's my boy. Did he thank you after you saved him?"_

"No, he wouldn't give me his name. He dropped his wallet when I helped him up but when I tried to give it to him, he was gone." Alfred flips the wallet in his hands lazily.

_"You've got to give that wallet back to him Alfred. Take it to the police station." _Lacy suggests. Alfred shrugs at the phone when his father speaks up.

_"Good idea but maybe you can take it to him yourself. Find his address on his driver's license and see if you can't take it to him. It'll take forever for the police to get it to him and no doubt he's looking for it."_

_"That could work too Mitchell. Yes, try that idea Alfred and if it doesn't work, then take it to the police."_

Alfred nods at the phone, letting their advice sink in. If there's one thing Alfred can count on, it's his parents and their advice. The blonde in boxers rises from his seat and takes his now empty plate over to the sink. Jack and Matthew hand him theirs as well and he places them in the sink on top of his.

_"You'd better follow our advice Alfred. That man needs to get his wallet back." _Alfred rolls his eyes at his mother's words.

"He'll get it back mom, trust me."

Lacy sighs into the phone. _"He'd better, that's someone's life in your hands Alfred. Alright, I have to get back to work, I've got a client at 11:30. I'll call you later on tonight boys, love you."_

_"I don't get a call Lacy-Face? I'm your husband and I find that rude."_

_"Shut up Mitchell and don't call me that. I'll call you later too, just tell your secretary to stop interrogating me every time I call. If she does it again, I will personally drive up there and kick her ass."_

_"She won't sweetie, I'll handle it. Now I've got to get going too, I've got a meeting with a general that I'm not too fond of. I'll talk to you all later. Love you all." _Mitchell's tone sounds a little dejected.

"We love you too mom, dad. Talk to you later." The brothers reply in unison. The parents exchange goodbyes and Jack hangs up the phone. He walks over the kitchen table, picks up his phone charger and plugs it in behind the microwave. Matthew glances over to where Jack is and catches a glimpse of the time on the microwave clock.

"Al, we need to get ready. Mathias will be here any minute."

Alfred glances over to the clock and curses under his breath. In a flash both he and Matthew race out of the kitchen towards their rooms to get ready for work. Jack watches amusedly, snickering when Alfred trips on his socks running up the stairs. He sets down his phone on the table and walks over to the wallet left by its lonesome on the island.

"I have a feeling you're going to cause some major controversy, my little friend."

Those golden eyes on the driver's license glare up at him, but tell him nothing.

* * *

><p>AN: At least I kept my promise on bringing in more characters. Alfred's parents don't really play a big part but they'll always be in the background as secondary characters to keep him in check.<p>

Lacy reminds me of my own mother, except for the three way conference call with my dad thing; that's all Lacy right there.

There's a sixty percent chance of more stupidity in the next chapter so take this as a warning. There's something rotten in the state of _Denmark_.


	4. Four by Four

AN: Okay I feel like a bad person. When I first saw the word `rare-pairs' I thought it said `rape-pairs' and I was like `WUT?' FAIL. But I wuvs me some rare-pairs. Side note, I've figured out the genres for this story, romance/drama/humor. YUSS.

I'll shut up now.

Disclaimer-I do not own Nsync and Hetalia , oh but I wish it was, oh I do~

* * *

><p>He ruffles his spiky blonde hair to the so called 'untamed perfection' he claims it to be. "If I could remake the alphabet, I'd put U and I together."<p>

A scoff; he believes it's in denial but she knows better. "The arrangement of two vowels next to each other is illogical."

He sighs in defeat. "At least I can say I tried."

She rolls her dark blue eyes in mild annoyance. "And that's the best you can do for today. You can have that satisfaction Mathias."

She walks away in a haughty gait, as if she's better than him and his unoriginal pickup lines. She leaves him behind in his failure, leaving Alfred to handle the damage control. The bespectacled blonde stands up from behind the desk in the lobby, where he watched the exchange take place. "I take it Natalya didn't like that line." His best friend takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly, his shoulder slumping in an awkward pose.

"She keeps coming up with explanations for my lines. Can't she just humor me for once Al?"

Alfred shrugs in an indifferent way. "Everyday is exactly the same. You know how she works, if Natalya thinks you're an idiot, you're an idiot."

Mathis shrugs in agreement. He stands up straight, regaining his confidence and looks over to Alfred. "Speaking of Natalya, where's your other half? Usually he's glued to her side."

Alfred notices the mischievous glint in Mathias's true blue eyes but he doesn't know whether or not to address it. He knows what that look means and he knows what it comes with it, so he decides to ignore it in order to avoid drama. "Mattie's off working on a project with Elizabeta."

Mathias shakes his head with poorly concealed mock shame. "Natalya won't like the sound of that."

Alfred stands up behind the secretary's desk and punches Mathias in the bicep, startling the other blonde. "And neither will Ivan if he hears you talk about his darling little sister."

Mathias scoffs incredulously at his best friend, his blue eyes widening an inch. He can't believe what he just heard. "Are you taking up for _Ivan_, of all people? Your arch nemesis since third grade? Why would you do this?"

Alfred stands to collect his things as he glances at the clock; it's four minutes until he and Mathias get off work and he wants to be ready to go. Mathias takes this as his own cue to go and get his things together because he's got places to go and people to see after work. After the pair get their things together and go through the motions of making sure the windows in the lobby are closed and locked, the coffee maker is off and the appropriate office doors are locked.

Alfred shuts down the front desk computer and straightens up the area for tomorrow. He meets up with Mathias at the front door. "So are we ready to go?"

Alfred sweeps his eyes over the small front lobby of the office, noting the procedures for the end of the day. "Yeah, everything's locked, closed and off. We just got to wait for Mattie."

The two move to go outside in order to wait for Alfred's twin brother when a shout of Alfred's name echoes in from hall that connects the offices from the lobby. The bespectacled blonde turns around to catch the sight of a tall man with soft facial features and piercing blue-gray eyes.

He sighs at the sight and gets into a defensive stance, fists at the ready. "If you wanna fight Ivan, we can go outside. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, I didn't-"

Ivan chuckles softly. Alfred shifts slightly from his position but keeps a wary eye on the taller man in front of him. "Nyet, I am not here concerning _that_, my friend."

Alfred tightens his stance again. "Then what are you here for? I'm trying to go home, if you can't tell." Ivan giggles a little, causing Alfred and Mathias to cringe.

"I have finally come across that song you explained to me a few months ago." Alfred drops his fists, cocks an eyebrow and shares a questioning glance with Mathias.

"That song?"

"That song?"

"Da, that song." Ivan nods. He elaborates when the two blondes just stare at him without blinking. "You do not remember the song which name you could not recall?"

"You'd be shocked at what I don't remember. I'd forget Mattie's birthday, if he wasn't my twin. I love you Mattie!" He quickly adds when he catches the burning glare of his twin down the hall. Ivan moves the conversation forward, ignoring Alfred's input.

"If I can correctly remember, the song you were describing to me in great detail is `Gone' by Nsync. You were singing it when you were trying to remember the name. It was a horrible sight, really."

Alfred gapes at the taller man in front of him. Ivan stares at Alfred with an amused glint in those blue-gray eyes. Alfred's shocked gaze evolves into a dark glare. Ivan's watch Alfred carefully but they miss the fist that crash lands into the left side of his face.

Alfred shakes out his fist, damn Ivan's got a hard face, and ignores the dull throbbing of his digits. He seizes Mathias and Matthew by the hoods of their jackets and drags them out of the building and into the parking lot, where they load into Mathias's Jeep Wrangler. They pull out of the parking lot and Mathias can't contain his laughter any longer.

"Dude, seriously? Nsync? What are you, a pre-pubescent 12 year old _fan girl_?"

Alfred growls low and Matthew jumps to his twin's defense. "Come on Math, it's not that funny. Jack's the one that got it in his head so laugh at him when you see him." Alfred looks over his shoulder to his brother with a thankful look in his eyes. Matthew rolls his eyes but smiles at his twin anyway.

Mathias calms himself after a 3 minute fir of uncontrollable laughter at the expense of his best friend. He wipes a stray tear from his eye and focuses on the road. "Sounds like I just got permission to talk shit to big bro. Sweet."

Alfred scoffs at his window. "Permission? You would do it anyway, stupid."

"True indeed, my friend."

The truck grows silent with just the quiet rumbles of the engine floating in the air. Mathias twitches uncomfortably and turns the radio on. "So what are you going to do about the wallet Al?"

Alfred blinks out of his thoughts. "Say what now?"

"The wallet you found when we went out last night." Matthew supplies.

Alfred perks up and searches his book bag for the item. He finds it, pulling it out and once again facing that scowling face on the driver's license. He searches the face for something about the owner but he can't get past those glaring golden eyes. "I've got no choice but to return it; it's the right thing to do."

Mathias nods and looks over to the twin in the passenger seat. "Are we heading to your house, Captain America?"

Alfred flips off Mathias but nods in the affirmative to the question. "I've got to go and grab my Playstation 3."

* * *

><p>Lovino stomps angrily down a corridor in his home. The day is nice and beautiful, partly cloudy skies with peaks of sunshine slipping through. His angry gait echoes loudly in the empty hallway of his estate-his grandfather's estate at the moment, but soon to be his in the future-grumbling curses under his breath.<p>

He turns down a hallway and is blinded by the partial rays of sunshine shining through the large picture window to his left. He uses his hand to block the offending light and continues on his journey.

Lovino passes a few other people on the way to his destination, people that work in his home as hired help and the like. He walks past a maid, an older woman with graying red hair and warm green eyes. She smiles at him and he returns the gesture.

Lovino ends his walk in front of two wooden double doors, which when opened reveal a beautifully modeled kitchen. Wooden cabinets handmade with only the finest cherry oak wood, neatly varnished. Black marble countertops line the kitchen, complementing the dark hue of the wooden cabinets and drawers.

Lovino stomps into the room, scowling at the three people seated at the wooden table in the center of the spacious room. One of the people, an older gentleman with richly colored brown hair and the same color eyes as Lovino, jumps up from the table and spreads his arms wide for a hug.

"Little Lovi~! Come give grandpa a hug~!"

Lovino responds by punching his grandfather in the stomach and moving to sit at the table, scowl deepening on his features. The other two occupants at the table, his brother Feliciano and his cousin Antonio, stare at their grandfather doubled over in the middle of the kitchen, holding his stomach and groaning.

Feliciano winces at his grandfather before addressing his brother. "What's the matter _fratello_?"

Lovino rolls his eyes and glares at one of the cabinets above the refrigerator. "I can't find my fucking wallet." Feliciano gasps and their grandfather hobbles back over to the table.

"That's awful! Do you know where you last saw it?"

"No. I've checked everywhere in this damn mansion and I can't find it anywhere. It's like every time I set something down, the shit grows legs and walks away!"

Their grandfather strokes his stubbly chin in thought. His stomach still hurts but the pain is starting to subside. He's taken harder hits than that from Lovino. "When was the last time you remember having it?"

"This morning, I think."

"You should try retracing your footsteps." Antonio supplies, rolling his green eyes over to Lovino. The golden eyed brunette turns his glare onto the Spaniard.

"I've already done that dipshit, didn't you hear me when I first came in?"

Antonio sighs at his stubborn cousin. "I mean _all_ of your footsteps, _primo_. Think of all the places where you've been in the last few hours; remember we _did_ go to the club last night."

A look of realization crosses Lovino's features and he pounds a fist on the table in frustration. "FUCK! I must've lost it there then. This is some bullshit." He drags a hand across his forehead in anger.

"Lovino, you've got to call and cancel your credit cards. Who knows what person could have picked up your wallet." Lovino nods and rises from his seat, angrier than when he arrived.

"Alright I'll go do the shit now, grandpa Marcus." He moves to stalk out of the kitchen with three pairs of eyes watching after him. He makes it to the door but jumps back when a servant runs in frantic and out of breath.

It's the woman with the graying red hair, except her warm green eyes are hysterical and she's panting heavily from the run to the kitchen. The four men in the room exchange worried glances, with Marcus standing up and heading over to the door. "What's wrong Amelia?"

She stops to speak but pants between words. "Sirs, there's been…a disturbance…outside."

* * *

><p>AN: The story's finally started, yes! I didn't mean to end on a cliffhanger but a little suspense never hurt anybody. To be honest, I'm making up the plot as I go.<p> 


	5. Five by Five

AN: Who the hell is Lovino Vargas?

Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia, no way, or The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

* * *

><p>"Ha, you're a good one kid, a real genius."<p>

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"…I don't, really."

"Don't play dumb. This fraud scam you're trying to pull on the Vargas boy won't work. You're not the first and you won't be the last."

Alfred glares at the police office from behind the bars of his jail cell. If his glare could melt those metal bars, he'd put Superman's heat vision to shame. All of this is a mistake, a big and messy mistake. If Alfred had never-

* * *

><p><em>Wait, before I continue let me explain how we got to this point.<em>

* * *

><p>Alfred, Mathias and Matthew had returned to the twins' house to grab some things, the head over to Mathias' house for a while. Matthew needed his philosophy book for his homework and Alfred grabbed his Playstation 3 and a few games so he and his best friend could game it out for a while.<p>

After a while of fooling and general male roughhousing with Jack, the three males leave the house and head out to Mathias's place, deciding to return the wallet first before heading over there. Alfred decides to write the address down on a piece of paper because he doesn't feel that comfortable at looking at someone else's personal belongings.

Following the directions of the GPS on Matthew's phone, the guys find themselves in the nicer part of town, a more economically stable part of town.

"Holy shit, this dude lives in a mansion? We have _mansions_ in this city?"

Mathias is in shock at the huge structural homes on the outskirts of the city in a private and gated community. They drive up the quiet street in between the huge mansions searching for the home of the owner of the wallet.

"Yo Al, you got the address?"

"Yeah, I wrote it down. It's on Kercheval."

"Alright."

Mathias stops at a red light. "Dude, you should get to know this guy. Get real friendly with him, bring him into our circle. We could be chillin' in a mansion!" Alfred points Mathias to the street he needs to turn on.

"I don't know Math. The way Al described him earlier makes him sound like a jerk. I'm not really too fond of jerks." Matthew speaks up from the back seat.

"I don't think he's a jerk, he just doesn't seem like a…people person to me." Alfred states. He's willing to give the golden eyed stranger the benefit of the doubt, even if he _did _diss Alfred at the club last night.

"Sure Al, whatever you say." Mathias states. He pulls up to a house that matches the address on the paper.

The mansion is enormous, like a mansion should be. The outer décor is reminiscent of the Roman architecture, with the pillars and other structural similarities. Alfred studies the exterior of the house, mentally comparing it to his own abode.

"It's even bigger up close! It looks like the one on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, doesn't it Mattie?" His twin comes up behind him, marveling at the house with his own sapphire eyes. "Yeah it does. It's way bigger than our house."

"Haha, it is! I'm expecting Jazz to come flying out the front door. Be careful Mattie."

Alfred leads his friend and his brother to the front door of the mansion and rings the doorbell. A few minutes pass until one of the double doors slowly creaks open. An older woman, a maid with graying red hair and warm emerald eyes greets them sweetly. "Good day sirs. How may I help you?"

Alfred pulls the wallet from his pocket and hands it to the maid. "Um, my name is Alfred Jones and I was just returning this wallet. I found it at the club last night." The maid takes the wallet and gives Alfred a warm smile.

"Why thank you young man. I'll go and give this back."

She moves to close the door but something in the back of her mind tells her to open the wallet, so she does. Alfred, Matthew and Mathias watch in curiosity because they know that's the wallet. Alfred knows for a fact that the wallet belongs here because he's got that address committed to memory, along with those glaring golden eyes.

The maid frowns at the object in her hands. "Mr. Jones, there's been a mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"This wallet doesn't belong to anyone here."

"What? Of course it does, read the address." He points to the information on the card. "Somewhere in that house, that guy with the freaky yellow eyes is looking for this."

The maid glances up to Alfred with an annoyed look on her face. "Mr. Jones, no one here looks like this." She shows all three of them the picture she's looking at.

One word is spoken. "FUCK!"

Alfred grabs the object and studies the ID card inside. That's not-how the hell did this happen?

"Look lady-" Mathias speaks, looking the maid straight in the eye, "-Alfred has the wallet, if you just let us go and-"

"FREEZE, BITCHES!"

The sudden intrusion of a new voice startles the four people on the front porch. From out of the blue, a dark mass falls from the sky landing straight on Alfred.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"Where the hell did he come from? Alfred!"

Matthew's twin doesn't respond, he's too busy being sat on by this strange newcomer with stark white hair. The fuck…?

"What the hell do you think you're doing, boy? You think _fraud_ is a _joke_?"

Alfred squirms under the body on top of him. The guy is heavy as hell and he's sitting on Alfred's back, pushing his stomach into the ground. "What are you talking about? I didn't know! And stop yelling in my ear!"

"You're under arrest for attempted fraud. You have the right to remain silent." The white haired man slams Alfred's head into the ground.

"Dude, police brutality!"

The man on top of Alfred ignores Mathias' comment and turns to the maid in the doorway with angry red eyes. "Amelia, go and get Marcus. I'll handle things out here." The maid nods and runs back into the house. "You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

Matthew and Mathias can now only stand back and watch as Alfred gets arrested. All they tried to do was return a wallet and now one of them is being arrest for fraud, which is _illegal._

'_Damn it Alfred, how am I going to explain this to Mom and Dad?'_

Matthew's face meet Matthew's palm.

* * *

><p><em>Now that you're all caught up, let's return to the present…<em>

* * *

><p>Alfred leans back against the wall and sighs heavily. This whole thing is a mistake, it really is. He wasn't trying to trick anyone out of money, just a simple guy trying to do right by the world. In a way, he's like a superhero trying to protect the good from the evil, like a champion of justice does. If he hadn't found that wallet, who knows who could have in his place and who knows what they would've done with it. His good deed's been taken in vain however, he's been thwarted by evil and left to rot in a prison with no hope of salvation.<p>

And his forehead's still bleeding.

Fuck, what are his parents going to think? Hopefully, Mattie's been a good boy and kept his mouth shut. Hopefully.

Alfred turns his attention to the officer sitting at his desk outside the cell. " Yo Officer Ziggy! I've got a question."

The officer behind the desk flickers his green eyes up at the detainee in the cell. "It's Zwingli and what do you want?"

"Can I make my one call?"

The office cocks an eyebrow. "You already did."

Alfred walks over to the bars, sticking his arms through and letting them hang loosely. "Yeah but my brother Jack answered and he's an asshole who laughed and hung up on me. Come on bro, you gotta let me call someone else."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleeeeease~?"

Zwingli snaps his pen in half. Damn it, now there's ink all over these reports and Zwingli hates filling out these forms. Damn it all.

"No!"

Alfred falls to his knees in agony. His eyes start to water, his bottom lip is trembling and one lock of hair on his golden head is defying gravity. "Come on Ziggy, let me call someone to help me! I won't last in prison, I'm too pretty! Plus I don't have the cigarettes Ziggy, I DON'T HAVE THE CIGARETTES!"

The officer brushes some of his cropped blonde hair from his face. He glares at the blubbering boy in the cell across from him. He wants to tell the boy to stop calling him 'Ziggy' because his last name is _Zwingli _and he hates it when people get his name wrong, but he holds his tongue. He doesn't know why he's not saying what he's really thinking maybe one day he will, so right now he'll approach the situation at a different angle.

"Damn it, MAN UP OR I'LL BEAT YOU WITH MY PEACE PRIZE!"

Alfred quiets immediately to stare blankly at the officer. "…What?"

"…"

"…Okay."

Awkward silence ensues for seven minutes.

"Yo Zwingli! You can let that blonde guy go, someone's posted his bail." Zwingli and Alfred welcome the voice that breaks their awkward silence. The blonde officer gets up to go and let Alfred out, glaring at the blonde as he exits the cell.

The bespectacled blonde heads to the front of the station to go and meet whoever posted his bond, secretly wishing it wasn't one of his parents. He's also mentally preparing himself for his inevitable death if it _is _one of his parents. His dad might be old, but he's still in the army…

Alfred passes the officer that arrested him, and gives him the honorable one-finger salute, to which the officer heatedly returns along with a freaky red-eyed glare. The blonde makes it to the front desk and his heart drops at the person standing there.

"YOU!"

* * *

><p>AN: I really can't explain that last part. I already states that I'm making this up as I go.<p>

If you don't know what The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was, Google it and that mansion part will all make sense.


	6. Six by Six

AN: SO...

I like writing Australia. The Twitter usernames were fun to come up with :D

By the way, RT is a Twitter term, it means to `re-tweet' or resend a message on Twitter. One can simply resend the tweet or they can reply to it. In this case, people are replying.

PS: The stars (*) stand for the 'at' symbol.

Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia, Twitter or Skype.

* * *

><p>"YOU!"<p>

"Me?"

"Yes!"

"Really?"

"Shut up!"

"I love you too~."

Alfred's brain is still stuck on his whole `superhero' speech that he mentally put together while in his holding cell. If he's a superhero, then his bastard of a _brother_ is definitely his arch nemesis. What the hell was he doing here anyway? He'd already made it clear that he didn't care for Alfred's well being, so where'd he get the money to bail him out?

And why did he bail him out?

…That sick bastard.

"Before you ask-" Jack starts, gliding over towards his younger blonde brother, "-I'm not the one that bailed you out."

Alfred folds his arms in mock disbelief. "Really now?" His words are laced with heavy sarcasm. Jack gives him a look that's hard to describe but it borders mostly on annoyed.

"Yes, really. I don't like you like that."

"Then who posted my bail?"

"I did, _bastardo_."

Alfred's blue eyes move to stare at the new person in the scenario; not new actually, because he's only seen _one _person with glaring golden eyes and a scowling demeanor, and that person is currently standing in the same room as he and his traitor of a brother.

Sapphire meets golden-hazel when Alfred locks eyes with the familiar stranger whose name he can't readily pronounce. They stare at each other, they stare through each other, they just _stare _because neither had known that fate would have brought them back to each other under the most unusual of circumstances, and neither knows what to say to one another. Alfred finally finds the courage to tear his attention away from the newest addition in the lobby of the police station to his jackass of a brother.

"What's going on here Jack?"

The eldest brother raises his hands in front of him in a defense manner, ready to defend if necessary. "Nothing Al, really. Ask him if you want to know." He gestures to the golden-eyed stranger behind him.

An older gentleman with hair the color of rich chocolate enters the building in powerful steps and a lighthearted stride. He winks at a female desk sergeant, who looked up from her paperwork at the newcomer. She blushes lightly and returns to her work in a hot fluster. The man comes up to their mini-group and stands behind the golden-eyed man, his own bright hazel eyes glimmering with a subdued mirth.

"What's taking you so long Lovi~? Your brother's having a fit in the car." The older man wraps his arms around the younger man's shoulders. He shrugs the old man off and moves away from him.

"Nothing, I was just-"

"You're the boy my Lovi had arrested?" The old man questions, coming up to Alfred.

"Umm, yeah. It was a misunderstanding though."

The eldest man's expression morphs into a look of concentration as he stares at Alfred. He takes in all of the younger male's features, his golden hair and bright blue eyes, his slumped body language, his wrinkled t-shirt and blue jeans. He strokes his light scruff of a beard in thought.

"A misundersta-wait, where are my manners? My name is Marcus Vargas and this is my grandson Lovino." He holds a hand out for Alfred to shake, which he does, then switches over to Jack.

"Nice to meet you. My name's Jack Jones and this is my little brother Alfred." Jack swings an arm around Alfred's shoulders, to which the blonde shrugs them off and moves away. Jack mock pouts at his little brother. "Aww Alfie, you used to love that."

Alfred punches his brother in the arm. "Shut up you idiot."

"Now now boys-" Marcus interrupts, stepping in between the siblings. He diffuses the sibling rivalry before it starts by wrapping an arm over the shoulders of both Jones brothers, "-it's not nice to fight. You two are brothers, so you should love each other."

Jack reaches over Marcus' chest to pop Alfred in the forehead. "See Alfred, this is what I've always tried to tell you! Mr. Vargas, where have you been all our lives?"

"Dude Jack, you're not funny."

"I am too, and you love it."

"Haha, that's what I like, good old fashioned brotherly love. Now how about I give you boys a ride home? That way you can explain this misunderstanding to me a bit clearly."

Before the brothers could respond, Marcus leads them out of the police station, with Lovino leading the pack. They leave the station and come face to face with a sleek, black limousine parked neatly in front of the station. They file in and meet another man, with auburn hair and those same golden eyes, already seated in a window seat by the mini bar.

"Oh grandpa, Lovi, I was wondering when you were going to come out of there! I was getting bored in here by myself!" Marcus reaches over to pat his other grandson's head.

"Grandpa's back, so boredom be gone~!" He sits back and motions over to Alfred and Jack next to him. "Feliciano, this is Jack and Alfred Jones; they're brothers. Alfred and Jack, this is my youngest grandson, Feliciano. He's Lovino's younger brother."

Feliciano nods and waves enthusiastically at the two newcomers in the limo. Jack waves back and nudges Alfred to do so to as well but the blonde couldn't be bothered; he was too busy staring at Lovino.

He takes in the sight of Lovino, the way the brunette slouches in his seat to stare out the window, the way he pointedly ignores his grandfather's attempts at including him in the conversation, the way his eyes catch the sunlight and accentuate his unique eye color; the hue of which Alfred still can't figure out. Only when the brunette shifts back in his seat does Alfred blink out of his reverie.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

Alfred couldn't tell him if he wanted to.

* * *

><p><em>"Jack, you saw the wallet sitting there, why would you leave yours out in the open like that?"<em>

"Mom, I didn't know that we had the same wallet, how was I supposed to know Alfred would be too stupid to not differentiate between the two?" Alfred made to punch his brother again, but Marcus waves him off.

"It was just a simple mix-up Lacy, no need to be angry at Jack."

Lacy sighs into the speaker. _"Yes but I know how much my boys fight. It's hard _not _to get angry sometimes."_

Alfred turns away from the conversation in favor of looking out of his own window. They'd pulled up in front of the house over twenty minutes ago, and Marcus was still on the phone talking to his mother.

He'd explained the whole situation to Marcus, about how he simply grabbed the wrong wallet thinking it was Lovino's and how he wasn't trying to scam the young brunette out of his money. Marcus had taken it with a grain of salt at first, but once he read the honest expression on Alfred's face, one even Jack vouched on, he'd warmed up to the blonde.

Marcus is a parent and grandparent himself, so he took it upon himself to call the boys' parents to inform them of their son's brief incarceration. Jack gave him their mother's number because their dad was in another conference with that same general he didn't like and Congress, so he couldn't be disturbed at the moment.

Alfred wished they could've called his father because at least he would've have gotten yelled at. When they broke the news to Lacy, she'd grown quiet, then regarded Alfred with a disappointed air to her tone that made the blonde wince slightly.

With the situation neutralized, Lacy and Marcus had fallen into easy conversation and Marcus had even put the phone on speaker so everyone could talk. It turns out that Lacy works with Marcus' son and they'd met at a medical conference last year.

Alfred rolls down his window for some fresh air. "-because he and Lovi would get along great together."

_"Yes they would. That is a good idea, Marcus."_

Alfred blinks slowly and gathers his thoughts. "Wait, what is a good idea?" He catches Jack smiling at him-not a happy smile, a smug `Haha bitch, I-know-something-you-don't-know' kind of smile. Alfred hates that smile.

"Weren't you listening little brother? Your fate has already been decided."

_"Hush up Jack."_

"Haha, I like you Jack; your sense of creativity knows no bounds!" Marcus and Jack exchange a quick handshake. "As for you Alfred, it is what Jack said; your fate has been decided."

It is at this time Lovino decides to lean forward and kick his grandfather in the shin, which causes the older man to double over and grip his injured body part. "Stop saying that!"

"Lovi, it's not nice to kick others! What have I told you about keeping your feet to yourself?"

Before Lovino can retaliate, Feliciano jumps in and diffuses his family's drama. "Don't fight in front of our new friends, it's rude! Oh Alfred, you and Lovi are going to spend time together~!"

Alfred's mind blanks. "…Say what now?"

"You and Lovi are going to spend time together, to get to know each other and become friends! Your mom and grandpa decided on that because it was mostly Lovi's fault that you got arrested, that you two should get acquainted!"

Lacy whispers something to another person on her end, then giggles. _"Feliciano's right Alfred. I think it would be a good experience for you."_

"I don't." Lovino grumbles lowly, more to himself.

"Lovi~! Don't be like that, Alfred seems like a nice guy! He's got a good head on his shoulders because he tried to return your wallet; even though it wasn't yours. You never know, you might even become _best friends_!" Marcus soothes his aching shin.

"I don't give a _fuck _how good the bastard is, I don't know him and I don't want to know him." Lovino speaks so casual and strong, as if Alfred isn't in the limo with him. Marcus gives his grandson a serious look, then turns to Alfred.

"I'm sorry Alfred, Lovino's got a pretty stubborn outer shell, but he's soft on the inside."

_"Jack is the same way."_

"Mom!"

_"It's true."_

"Anyways," Marcus continues, motioning towards the door, "-I believe we've kept you boys hostage long enough. We'll discuss this more over dinner at my house this Saturday, won't we Lacy?"

_"Yes we will Marcus. Now if you will excuse me, I've got to attend a board meeting with your son."_

"Alright, tell Lucius to call me."

_"Okay, I will. My sons, I love you and I'll see you when I get home."_

"Love you too mom, see ya."

Marcus hangs up the phone while Alfred and Jack exit the vehicle. "So I'll see you boys again on Saturday! Be good!" The limo drives off and the brothers enter their house in silence.

* * *

><p>As soon as Alfred entered his room, he makes a beeline towards his computer. He needs to talk to someone about what just happened, and hopefully one of his best friends is online. He opens up a window and logs in on Twitter, because all of his friends are on Twitter.<p>

**CaptainAmerica: *KissMyAxe: **Guess who's back?

**KissMyAxe: *CaptainAmerica: **They let you out? The system can't keep my bro down!

**CaptainAmerica: *KissMyAxe: **Yeah, but now I'm in some deep shit. Like, Level 4 deep shit.

**KissMyAxe: *CaptainAmerica**: Level 4? Holy shit, better call in the whole crew. Matt's over here, so I'll tell him to get on here too.

**CaptainAmerica: *KissMyAxe: **Alrite, cool.

**CaptainAmerica: *KissMyAxe *That_Hockey_Guy *DirtyRichLizzy *Falcon_PUNCH *SilentYetDeadly *CherryGo_Boom *Color_Me_Vodka *Dipped_N_Chocolate: **Level 4 alert.

**Color_Me_Vodka-RT : "*CaptainAmerica: *KissMyAxe *That_Hockey_Guy *DirtyRichLizzy *Falcon_PUNCH *SilentYetDeadly *CherryGo_Boom *Color_Me_Vodka *Dipped_N_Chocolate: **Level 4 alert." -What? Did you escape from prison, comrade?

**CaptainAmerica: *Color_Me_Vodka: **Shut the fck up Ivan.

**SilentYetDeadly-RT: "*CaptainAmerica: *KissMyAxe *That_Hockey_Guy *DirtyRichLizzy *Falcon_PUNCH *SilentYetDeadly *CherryGo_Boom *Color_Me_Vodka *Dipped_N_Chocolate: **Level 4 alert." -Skype session then. Now.

Alfred shivers in front of his computer; Natalya is even scarier on the internet. He shrugs and follows her directions, logging into Skype. Hopefully his friends won't laugh when he tells them of his predicament. As the computer logs him in, he stops to think about what kind of people his circle of friends includes.

They're going to_ humiliate _him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I know, I know, the Twitter thing seems confusing, with all these usernames and re-tweets and shit. As for who the usernames belong to, you'll have to guess to find out.<em>

_The plot's finally started (for real this time)._


	7. Seven by Seven

AN: BAD TOUCH TRIO…ENJOY.

Wait, this needs to be cleared up.

Mei-Mei-Taiwan

Laura-Belgium

Disclaimer-I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>She laughs ceremoniously and flips caramel hair over her shoulder.<p>

"Alfred is always getting into some kind of trouble, but I didn't expect this." She nudges a quiet platinum blonde girl to her left. "Natalya, I'm glad you called this meeting or else we wouldn't know what to do with our little Al." Natalya nods her head in silent agreement.

Alfred and his friends are relaxing in his living room the way young people do. Mathias enters the room armed with a canned pop in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. He falls backwards onto the couch, draping himself over the laps of the two girls already seated.

"Al's a regular criminal now, Elizabeta." The blonde male states, popping himself up on his elbows in one of the girl's laps. "He probably had to fight for his virginity in there. I knew I should have sent you some cigarettes."

Alfred throws a pair of balled up socks at his best friend's head. "Dude, it was a cell in the precinct's building, not jail." He's reclining on his twin brother's back with his feet on Ivan's lap. The taller man seems annoyed with the appendages but he doesn't bat them away.

"So what is the problem exactly, Alfred?" The blonde mentioned turns his attention towards one of the girls on the couch. Her brown eyes sparkle and she finger combs jet black hair.

"I was getting there Mei-Mei."

"Kiku, your sister totally wants me." Kiku glances up from his notebook and makes eye contact with Mathias. Mei-Mei giggles softly and she runs her fingers through his wild blonde hair. "He's right Kiku, we're totally gonna run away and get married."

Kiku cocks an eyebrow. "I would advise against that. You know how aniki is, Mei-Mei."

"I know Kiku, I'm just saying."

"Hey guys, can we get back on topic? We're talking about Alfred, not Mathias and Mei-Mei's mythical wedding." speaks the girl covered by Mathias' feet. Alfred regards the the green eyed blonde with a thankful look.

"Thanks Laura."

Ivan flicks Alfred's sock covered foot and a toe twitches. "I believe that Alfred needs to explain the situation to us more clearly. We could help him better if we knew the whole story."

Alfred sighs and leans further back into Matthew. The other twin makes a noise of disagreement but Alfred pays it no mind. "The whole story? Fine, I'll give it to you. Me, Mattie and Jack went out to the club last night. I was at the bar talking with Antonio, when I see this guy struggling in the crowd on the dance floor. I go to help him out and he's a total jerk to me, all sarcastic and shit."

He keeps the part about Lovino's eye color to himself.

"So I introduce myself and he just blows me off, as if I'm just some creepy stranger. When he left, I noticed he dropped his wallet. We go to return the wallet today and turns out I grabbed Jack's wallet instead. Then the guy curses me out and has me hauled off to jail."

"Then how'd you get out of jail, Al? Didn't you have to post bail?" Elizabeta questions.

"I was just getting there, Liz. Lovino was the one who bailed me out."

Elizabeta squeals with glee. "Aww, how cute! OW! Natalya, not necessary."

Natalya fixes her friend with a blank look, then blinks and turns back to Matthew. "Now's not the time for your gay male fantasies. Continue Alfred."

Alfred obeys Natalya but he swears he hears the girl mumble, _'Tell me later' _to Elizabeta under her breath. "Anyways, he bails me out, I meet his grandfather, ride in a freakin' _limo_ and somehow I end up having to spend time with that jerk Lovino."

'_That jerk with the unique golden eyes. Maybe you'll figure out his real eye color from this.'_ His mind supplies.

"Spend time with him? Why?" Mei-Mei questions. " Is it because he got you wrongly imprisoned?"

"Yes! His granddad called my mom and they agreed we need to get to know each other better." He emphasizes the last of his statement with air quotes. "We're having dinner at their house Saturday."

"I don't see why you're so stressed out about this Al. it sounds perfectly fine to me."

Mathias struggles to sit up on his elbows in Mei-Mei's lap. After a few tries he succeeds and looks over his shoulder at the girl his legs are occupying. "You're not getting it Laura, Lovino is a class one _asshole_. He's rude as hell, he didn't bat an eyelash when he had Alfred arrested."

Laura looks to Alfred, a confused expression on her face. "Really?"

The twin confirms with a nod. "Yeah, he just spazzed out on me like I was a common fucking criminal. Shit, I don't know what to do."

The room is silent for a few moments as everyone ponders. The situation is not that problematic, going over to someone's house for dinner isn't all that bad. The only problem that exists is Lovino. Obviously he doesn't care too much for Alfred and the blonde's not too fond of him either. Maybe they _could _get to know each other better.

And maybe that idea would crash and burn.

"I say you go for it Al."

That one sentence tears everyone form their thoughts. All eyes point to the blonde twin sitting cross-legged in front of Natalya, and he squirms under the scrutiny. "You got to elaborate Mattie."

"What I was thinking that yeah you should at least get to know him. You guys don't have to become best friends, just a friendly acquaintance with one another."

Natalya nods along to her boyfriend's words. "Matvey has a point."

"I agree as well Alfred." Kiku adds.

"Dude, no! That guy's a total jerk and my bro's not hanging around some snobby asshole." Mathias rolls off the couch and over to Alfred. "Why waste your time Al? He doesn't care about you!"

Elizabeta rises from her spot on the floor and stomps over to where Alfred and Mathias are. She kicks Mathias in his side with the heel of her shoe. "Don't tell him that! Alfred can talk to whoever he wants. And if he _does _decided to go through with this, he just might like it."

She kicks him again. "Damn it Lizzie, the guy's a First Class Asshole, why would he want to talk to him? Stop kicking me!" She kicks him again, aiming under his ribs.

"He talks to _you_ on a daily basis."

"Touché."

"Alfred I believe you should follow your instincts." Laura states from behind her magazine on the couch.

"Instincts?"

"Yeah! I know Math says the guy's a complete jerk but he might not be deep down inside. You're a good judge of character Al, so just try Matthew's idea out."

Alfred nods his head, his brain working to take in the information. Of course he could listen to Mathias' advice and ignore Lovino completely but that'll be hard to do at dinner on Saturday. But what if Laura and Matthew are right? What if Lovino's really a nice guy who only acts like a douche with daddy issues to strangers when he first meets them? Alfred huffs and ruffles his hair fitfully. Why can't this situation solve itself? Why does he need to become friends with the guy that had him falsely arrested?

Damn it, why the hell does it have to be Thursday?

* * *

><p>He's doing it again, in the way that he's been doing it for the past few weeks. It's getting old but Antonio can't help but like it.<p>

"And yet you call me again_, _Arthur. _En serio, _I don't know why you complain so much."

The man on the other line pauses a moment in his rant to yell at Antonio. The brunette just smirks, he can picture those heavy eyebrows furrowed in anger. A tap on the shoulder pulls Antonio out of his thoughts to the silky haired blonde man sitting between him and Gilbert. "What is he mad about now?"

Antonio shrugs. "I invited you two over and he feels left out."

The man on the phone sputters into the receiver, sounding breathless. _"What? I don't want to lounge around with you three tossers! I don't trust you three when you're separate, let alone together; especially Francis."_

The blonde man's blue eyes twinkle deviously. "Ohonhonhon~, you've never denied my hands in the past, Arthur."

"_Damn it Francis, stop talking!"_ Arthur huffs.

Gilbert props his feet up on the wood and glass mix of a coffee table in front of them. As long as his shoes don't leave scuff marks he's fine. "Damn Francis, can your laugh get any more stereotypically _French_?"

"I resent that." Francis sniffs in mock hurt.

"Damn it, why didn't you tell me your bastard friends were coming over?"

The three bastard friends look up to see Lovino standing in the doorway. He's breathing heavy, his fists are clenched and his clothes are skewed and out of place on his body; he must've been fighting again.

"Lovi," Antonio speaks carefully, "what did you do to _abuelo_?"

"Me? What did _I _do? No, it's what _he's _done!"

"What has he done _primo_?" Antonio questions. He pats the arm of the couch, enticing Lovino to take a seat. After a short consideration the brunette huffs and stomps his way to his seat.

"That _bastardo's _really fucked up this time."

"What happened Lovi?"

"Your brainless _nonno _is having dinner guests on Saturday." Lovino frowns at Antonio's confused look. "Damn it, you're supposed to be mad!"

"Why would I-"

"Because he's inviting that guy who stole my wallet and his family over here! Who does shit like that?"

"Did he say why he was doing it?" Francis questions. He wants to make sense of the situation just as much as Antonio does, maybe even more.

Lovino folds his arms over his chest and glares at the blonde. " He says it's for the purpose of he and I getting to know each other.!"

Antonio tries to calm his irate cousin down, surely he's flipping out over nothing like usual. " I think that's a great idea! I mean Feli said that you had the guy imprisoned."

"Hell yeah he did! And I was the one who took him to jail!" The other three occupants of the room promptly ignore Gilbert's proclamation.

"That's not the point though, the point is I don't want to know that bastard! What if he's a con man or a crazed serial killer? I'll be fine not knowing the idiot."

"Come on Lovino, he can't be _that _bad. You're just overreacting." Antonio states. He loves his cousin, he really does, but sometimes Lovino can get a little…imaginative. "Not every new person you meet is on America's Most Wanted. Besides, if you do get to know him, he might become your best friend~!"

Lovino snorts in disdain. "Yeah, and he _might_ cut my head off. I can do bad all by myself."

"So what's this new fellow's name, if you can tell us." Francis questions. Those sapphire eyes are gleaming with something sexually perverted, Lovino already knows. He hesitates for a moment, debating on whether or not he should just leave, until he decides to stay and face his interrogation.

"Alfred Jones, I guess."

And that's where Antonio's blood runs cold.

"_Antonio, are you there? Antonio? Hello? Damn it, bloody wanker…"_

* * *

><p>AN: So as I was writing the last scene, I was listening to this sad love song. The lyrics affected me in the last few lines and I just couldn't get an idea out of my head. The chorus goes like this:<p>

"_Now you got someone who don't treat you right, treat you right, treat you right, treat you right, treat you right_

_You already know who used to treat you right, treat you right, treat you right, treat you right, treat you right_

_You look for me and you know I'll be out of sight, out of sight, out of sight, out of sight, out of sight_

_Weren't you the one who told me to get out your life, out your life, out your life, out your life, out your life"_

There's a smidgen of Spain/America in the beginning of this story and since it's going to be Romerica, my brain created a plot where America left Spain for South Italy but South Italy doesn't treat him right.

I don't know, I need to sleep :/


End file.
